Maybe This Christmas
by Kitarin
Summary: Originally written for the LJ USUK holiday exchange.  When America accidentally catches England & France on a holiday shopping date, will it totally derail his own plans to spend the holiday with the person he loves most?
1. Ch1  Miss You Most

**Author's Notes:** Posting Christmas on Halloween is a little early, but this was actually written for the USUK holiday exchange awhile back. Thus, it is completely unrepentant FLUFF. I don't own Hetalia, but I do think US & UK have a Very Special Relationship.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Chapter 1 - Miss You Most<em>**

* * *

><p>o~ _The__ fire __is __burning  
>The <em>_room's __all __aglow  
>Outside <em>_the __December__ wind __blows  
>Away <em>_in __the __distance  
>The<em>_ carolers __sing __in __the __snow  
>Everybody's <em>_laughing  
>The <em>_world __is __celebrating  
>And <em>_everyone's __so __happy  
>Except <em>_for __me __tonight__~/o  
><em>

It was raining.

Not an entirely unsurprising thing for London, even with winter's approach, England thought to himself as he filled the kettle with warm water and set it on the stove. Even though he was used to the weather, for some reason it felt a little harsher today than usual. Maybe it was because he hadn't slept well last night. Maybe he had too much on his mind. Lately. For awhile now.

The wind rattled the windows once as he shuffled into the next room, seating himself in his favorite chair with the overly-worn pea green cushions, right next to the warm and steady fire. He sighed as he picked his day planner up off of the coffee table.

_December__1.__ I __should __retrieve __the __holiday __boxes __from __the __attic __today. __I __might __need __to __replace__ a __few __bulbs __before __the __lights __go __up._ England's decorations were old, traditional and treasured, simple but elegant. Unlike someone else he knew. "I'd wager that fool's house is already over-loaded with blinking lights, neon signs and inflatable reindeer, despite the economic distress…" the nation muttered to himself as he crossed items off of his "To Do" list. _Cards,__gifts__… __so __many __traditions, __so __little __time__…_ England's mind drifted, as it always seemed to when he thought about the state of world affairs, both public and private.

It was a moment of inner struggle before he could admit to himself that he'd been worried about America, even amidst all of the chaos and strife going on around the world. There didn't seem to be any massive Christmas party in the works this year and the weight on his shoulders seemed… heavier than usual lately, though he tried never to show it… _optimistic __and __idealistic__…_ "But what would the world do without its hero to look up to," he snickered sarcastically before whipping his head back and forth to glance into the kitchen and the front entryway, making extra certain that no one was around to overhear him.

His comments would end up… misconstrued. _Yes,__ misconstrued._

Still, he wondered if maybe he could do something small to cheer up his old colony, a small gift, a token… make an effort at camaraderie and… friendship…England felt his cheeks grow hot as the word slipped through his mind, but he was jarred from the moment by the ringing of the telephone back in the kitchen.

Scrambling out of the chair, he hurried to answer it, further jarred when he was greeted immediately by jangly, raucous music. "Happy December, Arthur! Let's go shopping!"

"Francis? What is that racket?" England demanded in irritation, holding the phone at arm's length to save his ear drum.

"It's Christmas music, you Grinch!"

"I am not a Grinch," England yelled into the phone. "I don't know what would give you that impression. Turn that nonsense down or I'm hanging up the phone. And I don't want to go shopping, especially not with you, you annoying git!"

"Talks like a Grinch, ~_is__ a __grinch~_" France sang into the phone even as he turned the music down, knowing that his old friend wasn't kidding about hanging up. "Don't we have this fight every year? Of course you want to go shopping! You have to buy a present for _me_, at least… though there's really no one?" A pause. "Not one other single soul that you need to get a gift for?"

_Damn__ Francis._ England pulled the phone back to his ear, leaning against the counter with a frown. Why did it sometimes seem like the crazy country was sneaking a peek inside his head? There was no way that France could know what he'd been thinking! _But_ _I__ could __get __his __advice __without __him __knowing __who __the __advice __was __for__…_ "Fine, fine," he pretended to give up easily. "I know you won't stop harassing me until I agree. We'll go this Saturday."

"Trés bien!" France chimed back with obvious pleasure in his voice. "Champs-Elysées, as usual-"

But the rest of France's words were drowned out by the sudden whistling of England's tea kettle and the Brit found himself infinitely grateful for the excuse to get off the phone. "Arc, 1 PM, same as always." He didn't give France a chance to answer before hanging up, reaching to move the kettle and flick off the heat with his other hand. As he lifted his gaze to open the cabinet where his tea was stored, England stopped abruptly, one hand frozen in mid-air as he gazed out the small window above his sink.

Where earlier there had been drab sheets of gray sliding down, now there were snowflakes – fat and fluffy, spinning dizzily in the dusky twilight.

"_Engwand!__ Look! __Snow!__"_ He closed his eyes against the memory, taking a moment to steady himself. Part of him still expected to hear that voice echoing in his halls, but the round, blue eyes and laughing smile were only a watercolor fragment in his mind.

He moved to pour the water into his mug to find that the kettle had gone cold.

* * *

><p><em>o~ I gaze out the window  
>This cold winters' night<br>At all of the twinkling lights  
>Alone in the darkness<br>Remembering when you were mine  
>Everybody's smiling<br>The whole world is rejoicing  
>And everyone's embracing<br>Except for you and I ~/o_

The United States of America strolled briskly up 5th Avenue, taking the time to return as many waves and smiles as he could while still managing to weave an easy path through the crowds of holiday shoppers. He loved to see the streets of his very favorite city so busy, so full of life and, dare he say, even a bit of cheer. The sky above them was clearing and a few stars twinkled bright enough to be seen between the skyscrapers.

Tonight, he'd participated in one of his favorite holiday traditions – the lighting of the Rockefeller Tree, the keeping of an old promise… He smiled to himself a little at the memory, then snickered a little too… _But__ seriously, __what __dead __animal __was __Aretha__ wearing __around __her __head __this __year? __It __was __possibly __even __more __terrible __than __the __inauguration __ensemble!_

America was still humming some of music from the ceremony as he nodded to the doorman of his building. He'd be able to head back home to his house in DC in a few days, but there were meetings in the morning here that made staying in his penthouse tonight the best choice. Really, he couldn't complain, he thought to himself as he crossed the room, looking out over Central Park and the rest of the glittery lights of Manhattan as he unwound his scarf and shrugged off his leather bomber jacket. New York was beautiful at this time of year, and he wished very much that he could share the sentiment with someone.

Slipping his new iPhone out of his pocket, he stared at the brightly colored pictures and pondered. Usually, on this night, he liked to call England and brag about how this year's tree was the biggest and best one yet. England always called him rude or arrogant or made some other sarcastic remark, but America never took him seriously. After all, he was just a… a crabby old man. He lifted his thumb, hovering it over the screen indecisively. _But __he__'__s __been __more __than __crabby __lately, __he__'__s __been__… __what__'__s __the __word__…_

The phone started singing the main theme from Pokémon at him loudly and America's face broke into a grin. Fumbling for a moment, he lifted the phone to his ear to answer the call. "Mochi-Mochi!"

On the other end of the line, Japan winced and took a deep breath before responding. "That's a type of ice cream, Alfred-san," he intoned evenly. "I think what you were intending was moshi moshi?"

"Thanks for calling me back, Kiku!" America barreled right past the correction, tossing himself sideways into the leather recliner in front of his red & blue on white iridescent Christmas tree. _Only__ half __the __size __of __the __one__ at __home._ "Do you think you can help me?"

"Your question on my voicemail was somewhat unclear."

America didn't understand what there was to not understand. "Well, I have a lot of presents to buy, and I know I can do a lot of shopping here in New York, but… but there are some people who are just a little… harder to buy for?"

"And this is somehow connected to videogames?"

"If you have the best videogames, maybe you have other things that are the best too?"

There was a long moment of silence before Japan replied in the most diplomatic way he could. "This person, perhaps they would be more touched by a gift that came from your heart?"

"Heart? Do you think I should call Francis? He claims to know everything about matters of the heart!" America jumped out of his chair excitedly, pacing back and forth in front of the tree. "Thanks for the advice, Kiku! I'm going to do that right now!" He distantly registered the cut-off farewell from his friend before he punched the speed dial for France, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor as he was forced to listen to weird, breathy on-hold music before actually getting a live person.

"So sorry, _l__'__Amerique_," France purred into America's ear, surprised at how fortune was smiling on his holiday plans. He poured himself another goblet of wine and strolled into his bedroom, stopping to study his complexion in the mirror. "You were third in line, but that makes me no less delighted to hear from you."

"Wouldn't it be a great idea to go shopping together?"

The request came completely without preamble and France bit his lip to hold back a snicker. _Stubborn __and __oblivious, __what __a __pair._ "Indeed, Alfred, indeed!" he finally managed to reply rather smoothly, hoping the amused waver in his voice wouldn't register to the younger nation. "Let me ascertain: You wish that I should take you on a grand tour of The Avenue des Champs-Élysées? Then there must be someone special that you are searching to the ends of the earth for, mon ami.!"

America swallowed hard at the suggestive tone in the other nation's voice and cleared his throat, glad no one was there to see the blush he felt rising hot in his cheeks. "Uh, umm… yeah, sorta something like that. Not really. I mean, yeah, that sounds good! I could come in a few days, when my meetings are finished?"

France grinned and winked at his own reflection as he imagined America's flustered reaction before flopping onto his back in the center of his enormous and fluffy king-sized bed. It tickled him in a deep place (the one he only revealed to a certain someone once-in-awhile) to think that he might be able to push these two towards each other. "Saturday, then, meet me at the Arc de Triomphe…" _The __Brit__'__s__ generally __on __time._ "Just a heartbeat or three behind 1?"

_o/~__I__ miss __you  
>Most<em>_ at __Christmas__time  
>And<em>_ I __can't __get __you  
>Get <em>_you __off __my __mind  
>Every <em>_other __season __comes __along  
>And<em>_ I'm__ all __right  
>But <em>_then __I __miss __you  
>Most <em>_at __Christmas__time __o/~_


	2. Ch2 Won't Stop

_**Chapter Two - Won't Stop**  
><em>

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><p><em>o~ Now I stared at you  
>From across the room<br>Until both my eyes were faded  
>I was in a rush<br>I was out of luck  
>Now I'm so glad that I waited<br>Well you were almost there  
>Almost mine...yeah<br>They say love ain't fair  
>But I'm doing fine... ~o_

The sun was already sinking towards the horizon as America made his way towards the Arc de Triomphe, looking here and there for France's bright blond hair or a throng of captivated women. His hands were jittery as he walked along and he wondered if maybe he'd had a little too much espresso this morning. _My__ hands__ only __jitter __when __I__'__ve __had __too __much __caffeine__… __or __if __I__'__m __nervous._

Rolling his shoulders, he tried to shake that feeling off, thinking of the list in his pocket. He had a lot of presents to buy today for his many friends, and maybe he would find something for England and maybe he wouldn't. America didn't really know what he was looking for, but he felt intuitively that'd he'd know the answer when he saw it…

He just wasn't quite expecting the sight that suddenly caught his gaze, jerking him out of his daydreams.

France was waiting for him, but he wasn't alone. The pale hair was unmistakable, even with his back to America and his smaller form tucked under France's arm. As he stood in stunned surprise, pedestrians moved into his line of sight, and as if he'd simply blinked and they'd vanished, his fellow nations were gone.

His heart hammering a little faster in his chest, America circled the area around the Arc, but could find neither of them. Confused and uncomfortable, he whipped his phone out and sent France a text message: _Waiting__ 4 __U __Arc__…_ America hesitated, doubting himself for a moment before adding. _U __running __l8?_ He nudged his glasses up his nose while staring at the phone, jumping when it buzzed back a reply a moment later.

_Strolling__… __come __find __me__ further __east. _And a map to a store, not very far away.

America's lips quirked and he started walking as he typed back. _On __my __way. __C U __soon!_

Where at home, his stride had been confident, now America seemed thrown off by what he thought he'd seen, and the shoppers knocked him around as he hurried down the street, looking up at the signs as he passed. _Maybe __it __wasn__'__t __them__ at __all__ – __I__ only __saw __them __for __a __second__ – __I __didn__'__t __really __sleep __on __the __flight __over._

America turned over every excuse he could think of until he found himself standing in front of the store. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his chin, pulled the door open and strolled inside.

At this distance, he was now certain he hadn't been dreaming. Across the boutique, France was standing behind England as they gazed into the store mirror. Although America couldn't hear what they were saying, he found himself slipping behind the nearest mannequin, peeking under its armpit to watch France place a hat on England's head. The taller man leaned down to whisper something into England's ear and America found himself digging his nails into his palm as he watched England awkwardly duck away, tossing the hat back at France with a scowl.

Without even knowing why he was doing it, he back-stepped right out of the store, hiding himself behind the nearest tree to wait. Never mind the way they were acting, there was no way he could find the perfect gift for England if England was shopping with him! His entire plan was _devastated!_ Why had he not thought to ask if anyone else was invited? America knocked his forehead hard against the trunk of the tree. "Because I invited myself, idiot…" he muttered under his breath, freezing as he heard France's bubbly laughter from the boutique doorway.

And just like that, the United States of America found himself to be relying on all of his best action-movie-hero skills to track his two friends and remain undetected. A brilliant idea had dawned in him: He would observe to see what England liked and then purchase it for him!

But as he watched them start down the street, a tiny little voice screamed out "liar" in his chest with the wanting, _needing_ to know… no, no, he wasn't that nosy, was he?

America stood just behind a group of tourists with fold-out maps and watched as France bought ice cream and held it out to England, who hesitated a moment before taking a lick. The gesture made him both wistful and… and jealous. _Coney __Island__…_ He realized suddenly that his hands were curling at his sides and his jaw was clenched and he squeezed his eyes shut to try and force down old memories.

_Who __am __I __kidding?_ America bit his lip as he scurried along behind them again, feeling just a little hurt and a whole lot foolish. _England__ and __France __have __such __ancient __history, __growing__ up __together.__ Of __course __they__'__d __be__… __close._

By the time America's phone buzzed again in his pocket, he was feeling downright sick to his stomach from following them around all afternoon. Even if England still seemed to be his cranky, resistant self, America was no idiot. With the way France was acting, he was beginning to think it was clear that this was some sort of… date… he was infringing upon – which was why France's next message confused him further.

_Where are you, l'Amerique? Heading to the Eiffel Tower, won't you join me to take in the view?_

He didn't even need to read the message, as he had already followed them onto the metro – they were practically at the destination. Was France really just waiting for him to catch up? America felt that there was something that wasn't adding up to him. All of his fingers and toes felt numb as the tower's elevator surged upwards.

It was harder to spy on the two nations once they'd gone up the tower, and France was actually surprised that his spectacled friend had held out for so long. _How __far __must __I __nudge__ before __you __take __charge, __Alfred?_ France grinned to himself as he grabbed England's arm and tugged.

"I'm tired of being manhandled, Francis," England bit out irritably. "This entire shopping trip has been a bloody disaster!"

France wasn't even listening to England's barking, but as soon as he saw America's face peeking around a corner, he reached to grasp England's chin in one hand, turning his face up to give the shorter man an adoring smile. His eyes flicked back to where America had been standing, but the spot was now empty. Frowning, France straightened up just in time to miss England slapping him away before he stormed off in a sourpuss fit to find a cup of afternoon tea. "Not quite the spectacular ending I'd hoped for," France murmured, looking around for a moment before darting off to catch up with England.

* * *

><p><em>o~ I swear it's you  
>I swear it's you<br>I swear it's you that i waited for  
>I swear it's you<br>I swear it's you  
>I swear it's you that my heart beats for<br>And it ain't gonna stop  
>It just won't stop ~o_

America didn't know what to think.

As he climbed out of the hotel bathtub and stretched his aching limbs, he noticed the monogrammed towels first and his reflection second. He was pretty certain he was in Amsterdam, which probably meant he'd drank some things or smoked some things that he hadn't seen with regularity since the 1970's. "Why was I on a bender?," he murmured, raking a hand through his disheveled blond hair. "That's usually England's job…"

As the name passed over his lips, bits and pieces of _before_ came rushing back at him and suddenly his red-rimmed eyes and swollen face made a little bit of sense.

_England_.

For a moment, America wanted to break down again, but he decided that maybe a cup of coffee would chase the winter chill out of his bones.

Thankfully, he was alone in the room and amidst the mess he was able to locate a button-down shirt with two buttons torn off, one sock and his jeans, even more thankfully with his phone in the pocket… which was dead. He called to room service for the coffee, an apple Danish (and maybe a cell phone charger?).

_Arthur._

America frowned as he flopped down onto the bed in his half-dressed state, folding his arms under his head and staring up at the blank white ceiling.

The moment he had seen France touch England in such an intimate way, he'd turned and bolted in the opposite direction. It didn't even matter where he'd gone or what he'd done or how long it had been or how many angry where-are-you phone calls he was going to have to answer… There was never really such a thing as a vacation for a superpower, after all. But none of it mattered… because it was all, in the end, Alfred trying to escape Alfred.

"And that never ever ever _ever_ works!" he sighed in exasperation, his heart clenching a little. America knew he was angry, jealous… those feelings weren't hard to identify. But why… how? England was… they had a special… relationship. But he'd known for a long time that it wasn't ever going to be more than that! Seeing England with France just reminded him all over again how England would never view him like that, as an equal. But if he already _knew_ that, why was he crying over it, why was he bothered by it…

_Why did seeing them that way rip my heart out of my chest and grind it against the pavement?_

After room service's delivery, America clutched his mug of coffee between cold and shaking hands as he waited for his phone to charge. There were three increasingly irritated phone calls from his boss, several other work-related texts and a message from Japan. Without really knowing why he was doing it, America dialed his trusted friend and hoped the time change wasn't too awful.

"Alfred-san?" Japan's even tone answered after the 6th ring. "Do you know what time it is?"

"S-sorry, Kiku," he stammered immediately, not even knowing what he'd called to say, really.

Japan was perceptive and immediately noticing the lack of unrestrained exuberance in America's voice, he relented and decided he would simply get an earlier start than his usual early today. "Is something troubling you?"

There was no way that America could try and dump the entirety of his messed up history with England on Japan's shoulders (_some__ of __it __is __really __embarrassing!)_, but there was something about the wise country that always made America feel like he should do the honorable thing and tell the truth.

"Well, France and I went shopping… well, I mean, we were supposed to… but we didn't, because things got mixed up."

"Is this a preface or a plot?"

America's lips quirked a little and he finally took a sip of his coffee. "You know that someone I wanted to buy a gift for…" he started again more softly, pausing until he heard the usual "Hn" of affirmation in his ear. "Well, I… I saw that someone with someone else and I… I don't know what to do about it."

Japan was silent for a moment, weighing his answer, as he was easily able to fill in America's blanks on his own. "And this made you feel?"

"Jealous," America snapped back immediately, slamming his mug down so hard on the table that coffee sloshed over the edge. "Sad… confused… But I can't… it doesn't… _change_ anything!"

"Are you looking for an ear or waiting for advice?" Japan asked after another lengthy silence from the American, but when no answer came, he took a deep breath and invested a little of his own feelings on the subject into his words. "I do believe there is an American proverb that goes: Nothing ventured, nothing gained - but if everything is ventured, and still nothing gained, give up and venture elsewhere."

"Are you saying I should venture…" America started, turning the words over in his mind. He had heard them before, but never in this context. _Should __I__… __try __and __talk__ to __England?_

"How can you of all nations declare defeat before even braving the venture?"

A true smiled lifted America's features. "I can't. I won't." There was a much smaller pause this time. "Arigato, Kiku-chan."

Japan sighed inwardly at the inappropriate nickname, but felt touched that America had come to him for advice. The small and noble nation hoped that he would take it a little more seriously than France apparently had.

* * *

><p>England and his friends sat in a weary circle around the undecorated Christmas Tree – there was even a droop in the faerie's wings. He'd managed to slog his way through the lengthy Christmas card list yesterday after the day's meetings, but his weekend venture to Paris had left him rather deflated for days on end. It had been an all together unpleasant and irritating day of listening to France's babble and putting up with his incessant and inappropriate groping <em>and<em> he hadn't ended up buying a single damn present!

Not that it mattered – it had been a right stupid idea to try and get a present for America anyway – the blustering buffoon hadn't even called to boast about his tree this year. He must have decided that he had bigger and better audiences for his antics now… maybe there was a Christmas party and he simply hadn't been invited.

England's internal tirade continued even as his feet carried him to answer the knocking at his front door. In a thoroughly foul mood, he yanked it open and glared at whoever was bothering him on his day off. "A-Alfred?" England's heart jumped into his throat and he coughed a little to cover his gape of surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Arthur…" America started with a small smile, scratching the back of his head somewhat awkwardly as he shuffled from one foot to the other. "Not gonna invite me in?"

England hesitated for a moment before stepping back and letting America enter the house, trying to hide the fact that he was completely floored by the sudden and unannounced visit. He followed America as the other nation, familiar with the house as if it was his own, dumped his jacket on a chair in the hallway and stood in the doorway of the sitting room. "Don't even have the lights on it yet?" he teased a little, walking over to lift up a strand and beginning to wind it around the tree.

"I've been busy," England snapped back, passing him by as he entered the room, giving first his back as he stared out the window. "What, did you need to come by to tell me in person?"

America's heart skipped a beat at the question and he dropped the lights, starting forward as England turned around to face him. "Tell you what?" He hadn't even figured out himself yet what he was going to say—

"About your tree?" England crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot impatiently.

America had no idea what England was talking about, but just seeing him… standing there… being so cross and irritable... adorable. America's heart squeezed a little and suddenly the words were simply tumbling from his lips with no rhyme and no reason.

"I did come here to tell you, tell you something! I want you to know something about how I feel about things! I…I…I don't want you hanging out with France!"

"Er, what?" England blinked at America in confusion, having not been expecting that response at all. The taller nation's cheeks were already flushed as he glared down at England defiantly and the Brit couldn't help but respond with equal passion.

"What are you on about this time?" he retorted sharply, green eyes narrowing. "How did you know that I…"

"It doesn't matter!" America declared with a shake of his head.

England was both confused and beginning to get angry and he pointed a sharp finger into America's chest, trying his best to keep his voice calm and collected. "What gives you a say in how I spend my time? Are you world ruler now? Did I miss the memo?"

"No!" America replied, grabbing England's wrist to get that sharp jab off of his chest. "Not that you'd respect me if I was! Can't you just… do this for me? Because…"

"Hard to respect a nation that acts so ridiculous most of the time," England tried to wrench his wrist away, surprised when he failed and America actually pulled him in closer. It was only when he finally looked up to meet those sky blue eyes that he saw the depth of the anguish in them. _His __eyes __haven__'__t __looked __that __sad __since__… __that __day__…_ "B-because why…" he finally managed to choke out, still determined to win whatever fight they were apparently having.

"Because…because… " America started, his voice dropping low as his other hand reached to brush the pale hair from England's face. "Because every time I look at you, I… I feel like _this._" He surged forward, crashing his lips against England's in a way that was, at once, clumsy, endearing and terribly revealing.

"A-Alfred…" England mumbled against soft lips, his heartbeat so loud in his own ears that he thought for certain America could hear it. Oh, he had dreamed about this moment in the deep recesses of his consciousness, but to have it suddenly happen – unexpected and explosive. _How__ like __him__…_ England was truly and completely at a loss for words. "I…er…"

In that moment of hesitation, America let go and pulled back, biting his lip with a sharp shake of his head. "Arthur, I'm sorry…" he choked out. "I know you don't… feel… see me… I shouldn't have…"

England stood there in numb shock as America snatched up his coat and left the house, the door slamming with a hollow sound behind him. Part of him wanted to run chasing after the other nation, but he was so stunned that all he could do was sink to the floor, shaking like a leaf. _What __the __bloody __hell __just __happened?_

_o/~ You take this hand  
>You take this heart<br>Steal my bones  
>From 1000 miles apart<br>Feels so cold  
>Felt just like its ten shades of winter<br>And i need the sun ~/o_


	3. Ch3 Maybe This Christmas

_**Chapter Three - Maybe This Christmas**  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>o~ Maybe this Christmas will mean something more  
>Maybe this year love will appear<br>Deeper than ever before  
>And maybe forgiveness will ask us to call<br>Someone we love  
>Someone we've lost<br>For reasons we can't quite recall  
>Mmm, maybe this Christmas ~o_

England woke on Christmas Eve with new resolve.

For two weeks, his dreams had been haunted by those rain-soaked memories of the Revolution, echoes of a young America laughing… the camaraderie during WWII, picnics in the grass… meetings and conferences… the good, the bad, the ugly, the hopes and promises… all of it tumbled around in his mind until he could not take it anymore. The only way he would know if America really returned his… feelings… would be to ask him. He had never thought it to be a worthwhile possibility… _Ever__ since__ I __lost __him, __he__'__s __always __seemed __to __be __running __ten __steps __ahead __of __me, __a __bright __light __in __the __distance._ But after that kiss, that single heart-stopping, mind-bending, life-reconsidering kiss…

He couldn't stand sounding like such a sopping fool, even in his own head.

England called France.

"You are the most INSUFFERABLE BASTARD to ever walk the face of the Earth! I KNOW this is somehow your fault! I know that outing was a…a hoax!"

Now it was France's turn to hold the phone away from ear, wincing at the volume of England's wrath. He had actually been hoping things would just… work out on their own, but the island nation sound seriously unhinged. "Happy Christmas Eve to you too, Arthur," France chimed back pleasantly. "What are you blaming me for this time?"

"I don't even want to waste my breath fighting with you," England snapped, pulling his volume down a few decibels. "I'm only calling because I've looked everywhere else!"

"And what are you looking for?"

"Who…" England sighed, his voice a little ragged. "America… I'm looking for America. I need to talk to him, but he won't answer my calls. He's not at home, not in New York… I've called Japan, Germany, Italy… no one's heard from him."

At this news, France sighed, feeling a little guilty that his plan had gone so completely awry. "I suppose I should have listened to Kiku… but damn, old man, don't you think some of us are tired of meetings being derailed by your unresolved-"

"Shut it!" England's voice reached an impossibly high pitch. "If you'd like to live to see the new year, you'll tell me whether Alfred F. Jones is within France's borders RIGHT. BLOODY. FUCKING. NOW."

France grinned, tugging on a lock of his hair. Maybe everything would turn out just fine after all. "I can confirm that he is – but as to where, well… I could wager a guess with l'Amerique's sentimentality…"

"Answer me one more thing."

"Oui."

"You never intended to actually kiss me."

"Never for a moment, mon chere, I cross my heart."

* * *

><p><em>o~ Maybe there'll be an open door  
>Maybe the star that shone before<br>Will shine once more ~/o_

Alfred had quite literally wandered the countries of the Earth for two weeks, trying to find his center again. It was almost his favorite day of the entire year and he really didn't want to spend it wallowing over the friendship he'd probably ruined, but he'd been unable to stop thinking about kissing England. Shoving his hands deep in his jacket pockets, he gazed out over Paris as the sun sank low, a ripple of gold fading out into indigo and ash. A few stars began to appear and America found himself wishing for some sort of Christmas miracle. He didn't think Finland's bag of gifts would be able to help him this year.

The Eiffel Tower was mysteriously deserted when England arrived, but he didn't take time to dwell on the fact as he hurried to the elevator. When the doors opened to reveal the younger nation he sought gazing pensively out into the distance, England knew he would not be able to live with himself unless he saw this through. "Alfred?" he called out tentatively, crossing the few steps between them.

America whirled to face the voice he'd been so longing to hear, his mouth dropping open in surprise. "Arthur… how did you…"

"You ran off in such a hurry," England started gently, not stopping until he was standing at America's side, looking up at him with a surprisingly earnest expression. "Of course you would make me chase you all over the globe…"

"I didn't make you-" America started defensively with a frown, surprised yet again when England reached to touch his lips with one finger, like he used to do shushing America when he was little. The gesture was gentle, though, so America stopped and let England continue.

"No, you didn't make me… but I had to," England started, glancing away as he summoned his nerve. "I'm not saying you're allowed to tell me what to do!"

"I'm not!"

England's eyebrow twitched and he reached to grab America's jacket, tugging until they were eye to eye. "You… showed me how you feel. It's only fair… that I do the same."

The hint of a smile crept onto America's face. He probably didn't need to ask, but he would, because he was America. "How do you feel, then, Iggy?"

England didn't answer him, but instead yanked America towards him with that irritating jacket, catching his mouth in a far less chaste kiss than their first had been. America wound his arms around England's back and returned the kiss, running his tongue along the other man's lip until they were involved in yet another kind of fierce battle. They broke apart breathlessly and England let his forehead drop against America's shoulder. "Can you tell how I feel now, fool..."

"Arthur…" America started softly, reaching to tilt England's face back up towards his. "I've… loved you for a long time. I just thought, after helping to raise me, that you'd never see me…"

"I see you," England cut America off with a sharp shake of his head. "And because we spent so much time together, I'd like to think we already know each other pretty damn well. But I supposed I assumed you only saw me… as your past… old, proper, unimportant…"

"I do see you, only you!" America insisted, squeezing England hard and tight. "For all your faults, and I have mine too, don't you remember… I chose you? _I_ chose _you_…"

"And left me-"

America leaned in and kissed England one more time, hoping to convince him once and for all. "Only in the hopes that someday you'd see me as your equal. I had to, don't you see? Because of how I felt! And if you feel it too…?"

There was no hesitation in England's response this time. "I love you too, Alfred," England murmured, his cheeks going pink. "For probably just as long. And if you… if you want to try to figure this out, together…"

"Awesome!" America suddenly enthused, picking England up and swinging him around excitedly, all traces of earlier anguish and indecision nearly vanished "Then let's have Christmas at my house – there's _snow_ this year!"

"Your house?" England responded, a little ill from the spinning but still feeling jollier than he had, in well… _centuries_!

"My house!" America insisted, turning on his best pout - just to see if it still worked.

_Like__ a __charm_. "Fine, fine… your house," England relented, taking America's hand and squeezing it once, hard. "Merry Christmas, Alfred."

"Happy Christmas, Arthur," America grinned in response, leaning in to steal one more kiss.

_o/~ And maybe this Christmas will find us at last  
>In heavenly peace<br>Prayed for at least  
>For the love we've been shown in the past<br>Maybe this Christmas  
>Maybe this Christmas ~o_


End file.
